The Beautiful Six-Month Relationship of Diego Armando and Mia Fey
by TennisWriter456
Summary: It was a fierce love, one that made itself obvious to observers more so than it made itself obvious to the actual lovers. Sometimes, other people felt that they themselves were invested in this love, this wondrous gift that Diego Armando and Mia Fey were giving to the world. Their love made others feel loved. It was just that kind of love.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Thanks for clicking on this story! Weeeee!  
**

**I personally think that the story of Mia Fey and Diego Armando (or Godot, however you like to refer to him) is the most tragic in the whole series. I'm also a hopeless romantic. **

**There are lots of spoilers from GS3 in this story, so read at your own risk. **

**I love you all! Enjoy! Will update soon! **

* * *

Diego Armando's World-Changing Decision

Those who knew Diego Armando would not describe him as a loving person.

They would agree that he is loyal, clever, witty, (strangely immune to the effects of caffeine), optimistic, dedicated, determined, enjoyable to be around...but the word "loving" never made its way into people's descriptions of Diego Armando. None had ever seen him display enough affection to warrant that kind of description. Diego Armando knew this, and he knew this well; he himself wouldn't even describe himself as loving. He wasn't sure if he had experienced that specific emotion before, and thus, he could not properly describe himself as one capable of feeling it. He had always thought in the back of his mind:

"I must be at least _somewhat_ loving. Everybody is..."

But nothing had ever occurred to validate his concerns.

At particularly low points of (rare) self-degradation, Diego Armando had even tried to convince himself that he was loving because, quite simply, he loved being an attorney. He loved standing at the bench, watching prosecutors and witnesses squirm beneath his firm gaze and quick retorts, and he loved finally seeing the look of relief on his client's face. Most of all, he loved sipping his coffee and grinning the whole way through.

Ultimately, he had settled upon the fact that he was passionate. That was all. Not loving, but passionate. And everyone else seemed to agree. The discovery was perfectly fine with him because he had lived his entire life believing that he was not loving, and change was a frightening thing anyway. And so until February 16, 2012, those who knew Diego Armando (including himself) would not describe him as a loving person.

Diego Armando had already had some experience with kittens before Mia Fey stumbled into his world, practically blind and just starting to grow out her claws. She had come into his lion's den with a bright smile and the eagerness that he would expect from any new defense lawyer; he had seen such eagerness die down many times in the past (when the kittens were too weak), so Diego Armando figured it was only a matter of time before this one got herself declawed and moved to a new home.

He had to admit, though: she was much cuter than most kittens.

Mr. Grossberg's office relied on Diego Armando, a fact he knew all too well. Everything went through the slippery fingers of that old man and straight into Diego Armando's palms every time. He could count on one hand the number of times Mr. Grossberg had been able to handle a case without the input of Diego Armando and his beautiful little cup of infinite coffee. There were other lawyers in the firm, other lawyers that would stare down the lion each time he walked in, other lawyers that wished they could drink coffee and hear the words "not guilty" as often as Diego Armando did. He knew his title, and he advocated it (though he can't remember ever actually conjuring it): Grossberg Law Office's finest attorney.

Mia Fey seemed as if she wanted to challenge that title from the moment she walked in. Diego Armando remembered exactly what she had said to him when he had introduced himself.

"You must Mia Fey, our newest kitten. Welcome to the jungle."

"E-excuse me?"

She had always been so very adorable, with those bright eyes and ferocious expression.

"Diego Armando, at your service."

"What did you just call me?"

"Forget about it."

"Hmm. What did you say your name was?"

"Diego. Diego Armando."

He had thrown in a wink, because he thought the moment called for it.

"Do you always look so smug, Mr. Armando?"

"...What?"

"That smug look on your face. Do you always look like that?"

"Ha. No. Do you always ask so many questions?"

Then Mia Fey had smiled, and Diego Armando had sensed something strange.

"Well, yes. That's what a defense attorney is supposed to do...right?"

From that moment on, the entire office recognized Diego Armando and Mia Fey as rivals. The notion was laughable to him in the beginning; he could safely assume that he had been drawing acquittals from the mouths of judges before she had even decided to become a defense attorney. It became a running joke among the lawyers who watched Mia Fey eyeing him dangerously when she sauntered in the office. When Diego Armando spared a moment from his work to glance at that beautiful kitten, the expression on her face always said one thing: Finest attorney? We'll see about that.

It had confused him immensely. Nevertheless, Diego Armando took interest in Mia Fey. He saw that perhaps her eagerness wasn't so persuadable. She worked with a certain glimmer in her eyes—he was almost sad to admit it and cut down a piece of his confidence, but Diego Armando knew that Mia Fey wasn't after defeating him. She was not out to get him. As the weeks went by, he saw her begin to accept the fact that he was, in fact, the finest. At that point, that was fact. She was out for something else, something that Diego Armando couldn't quite pinpoint. Nonetheless...Diego Armando knew that Mia Fey was watching him. Every move he made, every step he took, every fateful sip of coffee. From a distance, he could feel the weight of her gaze, maybe even her admiration. Diego Armando told himself that he would figure her out one day. He believed that he would figure her out just as he had figured out so many cases. The process couldn't have been much different.

Life went on for Diego Armando. It went on for weeks after the arrival of Mia Fey and he barely batted an eyelash. Two, maybe three cases went by, and his interest in Mia Fey's interest in him perpetuated, but life went on regardless. His nearly spotless record became more spotless (as he expected, and as everyone around him expected), and his lovely little kitten continued to hunch over her lovely little desk and wait for the day of her breakthrough. Diego Armando did not make any attempt to approach her. Mia Fey did not make any attempt to approach him. And so, until February 16, 2012, life went on for Diego Armando.

Two days before that day, Mia Fey had accepted her first case and sent a wave of shock through the entire firm. Even Diego Armando had trouble (smugly) hiding the fact that he was surprised. It was a case that, when he was at Mia Fey's level, he would never have dreamed of accepting.

Terry Fawles. Death row inmate for the past five years. Escaped convict. Recently accused of murder.

And Mia Fey had accepted the case.

"That girl is crazy."

"That girl is stupid."

"That girl is too impatient."

"Does she really want to put an end to her career this early?"

Diego Armando decided not to take part in the conversations surrounding the odd circumstances. Here was his chance to figure her out.

_Why would she accept this case?_

On the night that she accepted the case, as Diego Armando was pulling on his jacket and pouring himself one last cup of coffee, he overheard Mia Fey (who would undoubtedly be spending the night at the office) speaking to another attorney.

"Mia, why on earth would you accept this case?"

"Because, he's been turned away by everyone else. I'm the only one he has. If I were in his situation, I would want someone on my side. Even if it was a lawyer on her first case."

Diego Armando decided something very, very important at that moment. He couldn't have known how important the decision was then, but he soon would. The next day, while Mr. Grossberg sat in his office twirling his mustache and twiddling his thumbs, Diego Armando knocked on his door and strolled in.

"Mr. Armando. What brings you in here? I don't suppose you're having any trouble—"

"Let me go with Mia to her trial tomorrow."

"Eh?"

"I want to go with Mia tomorrow."

"But...why?"

"Does it really matter _why_?"

"Well—"

"Great. So you won't have to worry about a thing, all right old man? I'll take care of our little kitten."

"It really makes me very uncomfortable when you refer to human beings as kittens, Mr. Armando."

Diego Armando decided not to tell Mia Fey that he would be the one accompanying her. He wanted to see just how she would react to seeing him, glowing and ideal, there to assist her. Would she be overwhelmed? Intimidated? Excited? Diego Armando could hardly keep the smile off his face at the thought. He made a mental note in his mind to bring even more coffee than usual; he had a feeling that his kitten would need it. As everyone carried on with the day, oblivious to the fact that Diego Armando had just made a decision that would change the world, Mia Fey sat at her desk scribbling away like a madwoman. He continued to bring the cup to his lips as he watched her, inconspicuously but very, very closely. Diego Armando wondered what could possibly be going on in her head.

That evening, he looked over the case himself. He was the only one left at the office (except for Mia, but she had fallen asleep, and thus he could consider himself alone). And a strange question, one that Diego Armando had not truly considered for years, worked its way into his mind. Before he could think about answering, he thought about why the question had suddenly appeared there, like a blaring siren screaming for an answer.

"Are you, Diego Armando, a loving person?"

In one long, desperate gulp, he swallowed the rest of the coffee and figured that the sirens would continue screaming for a while. He still didn't have an answer to that question, and Diego Armando could never have guessed that the answer was waiting for him tomorrow, on February 16, 2012, on the defense bench in Mia Fey's hands.

* * *

Diego Armando had a very strange dream the night before the day that turned his life on its head.

He was sitting in a courtroom. It was bigger than most of the courtrooms he'd found himself standing in, but this one was completely empty. A contradiction shot through his mind and, like clockwork, he turned to point it out to the judge with a deep "Objection!" But the judge was not there to hear it. The bench was hauntingly empty. Then Diego Armando waited for the prosecution's response, the challenge that he was so accustomed to facing. But it never came and he was left with a contradiction to tell nobody and no challenges to face. Diego Armando began to feel very, very frightened. There was nobody beside him, nobody in front of him, no judge, no prosecution; he searched frantically for a witness—any witness—to cross-examine, but there was no one. Not a single indication of life except for the steady beating of his own trembling heart.

There was one thing that gave Diego Armando comfort in the midst of this horrifying situation: the steaming cup of coffee sitting in front of him. He was very relieved to see it there, calling his name. The cup felt warm in his hands, and it was the one warm thing he could sense. The one real sign that he was alive. But when Diego Armando went to sip the coffee, something tasted odd. He was aware of the fact that he knew coffee inside and out. He could identify different blends of coffee based on smells, the type of warmth. People marveled not only at his skills in the courtroom, but also at his skills at the coffee maker. When Diego Armando's name came up in conversation, coffee was bound to follow, like a ball and chain attached to his ankle.

But when he sipped that specific cup of coffee, it had a taste that he had never experienced before. It was the only time since his first encounter with the magical beverage that he had let even a drop of subpar coffee touch his tongue. But by the time he realized the strange taste of the coffee, it was too late. He had already swallowed. Drastic ideas began rushing through his head.

"What should I do?"

Diego Armando wondered if his stomach could even handle this coffee. And suddenly, as he held the warm mug in his hands and pondered his grave mistake, it turned cold. Right there in his hands, the coffee became as cold as ice. He could not stop himself at that moment from screaming a loud and bloodcurdling scream, and hurdling the coffee across the courtroom. He understood then that something was very wrong with this coffee. Something was very...light. Light and cold. Coffee was supposed to be dark and scalding—that was a fact he had determined long ago. But this coffee was the opposite, and when Diego Armando opened his eyes and found himself staring at his ceiling and in a horrible sweat, the strangest idea crossed his mind. He felt that perhaps his dream was prophetic. Perhaps he had just had a strange, indecipherable premonition.

"All right, Diego," he said to himself, "just make sure that your coffee is _always_ dark and _always_ hot. Then you'll be fine."

Then Diego Armando had gone back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Mia Fey's Defense Attorney Recipe

Mia Fey was comfortable in defining herself as a very determined person.

She was not comfortable in defining herself as unrivaled, exceptional, prodigal, or a genius. But Mia Fey and all who knew her accepted the fact that there were few who could display the amount of determination that she did. From high school to law school (and now to the workplace) she had displayed her determination in countless ways. And in addition, Mia Fey was stubborn. At times, she was stubborn to the point of irrationality. She had already accepted that fact by the time she entered the world as a new, bright-eyed defense attorney. Mia Fey warned herself, created a mantra in her head—failure was not an option. As stubborn as she was, there was no way to avoid that dangerous idea. Stubbornness, as Mia Fey argued for the entirety of her short life, could be nothing but a blessing. She told herself:

"Determination and stubbornness. Those are the ingredients of a successful defense attorney. They must be!"

Even after seeing the world of law laid out like a beast before her, that idea remained clear in her mind. _Determination and stubbornness_. She vowed to maintain those traits, even if it meant the slandering of her newly budding reputation. And those were the two traits that she felt become even stronger when she walked into the office on her first day, and her eyes fell upon Diego Armando. The way he carried himself, the way she felt all energy emanating from him and gravitating towards him, the way he glanced over and gave her that pristine smile before taking a sip of coffee. For some reason, it made Mia Fey's blood boil. Diego Armando seemed as if he were basking in the knowledge that he was the best. But she, inherently and rather involuntarily, wanted to be the best. And thus Mia Fey came to see Diego Armando as her rival.

Soon enough, he was her rival as well as her superior.

Mia Fey realized within the first week that the energy surrounding him was there for a very good reason: Diego Armando was a talented, gifted defense attorney. He strode into the office every morning, made himself a cup of coffee—Mia Fey couldn't recall a single moment during which she'd seen him without one—and showed the world just what he was there for. In the beginning, that was the only thing Mia Fey knew about him. He could solve a case in the snap of a finger, and he could solve it well. Diego Armando was a mystery to her for a bit. But she came to learn about him. At a shining twenty-seven, he was five years older than she was. And after her first conversation with him, she discovered that he was not her senior, but her very smug senior. When he smiled at her, or winked at her (as he often did), or called her by that endearing term "Kitten," Mia Fey saw smugness. Smug became the word she associated with Diego Armando.

However, there was one other word she associated him with, and that word was sexy.

One conversation stuck out in particular to Mia Fey regarding the smug Diego Armando. It had been within the first few weeks of her arrival, long after the obligatory introductions had been made, and Mia Fey had been sitting calmly at her desk working on her usual boring paralegal material. It had been around noon, and Diego Armando had been in the courtroom. Without him, the office had seemed much less lively—but at the same time, it had seemed much less intimidated. Everybody had appeared more confident in themselves in the absence of the finest attorney at Grossberg Law Office (a title to which even she had become accustomed). Mia Fey herself had felt as if she had jumped up a few levels. Of course, everybody had been silently aware that as soon as Diego Armando strolled in, they would be back to their set rungs on the ladder.

"So, new girl," one of the attorneys had said as he'd approached Mia Fey. He had been much more comfortable in doing so without the constant glare of Diego Armando's personal sun.

She hadn't been able to recall his name, so she had just smiled.

"Whaddya think?"

"Of...?"

"This place we got here!"

"It's great, I guess."

"I think someone's got his eye on you."

"Huh?"

"You know who I'm talking about."

Mia Fey had been extremely confused.

"Are you talking about—?"

"Diego! Of course."

"Mr. Armando? An eye on _me?_ What on earth makes you think that?"

"I don't know. It seems like you've got your eye on him, too though."

It was then that Mia Fey had realized that, yes, she had been unconsciously watching Diego Armando. She had been watching from afar, sometimes in admiration and sometimes in spite and sometimes just because she wanted to see the smug look at his face. The thought, for some reason, had made her smile. And when Diego Armando had returned from the courtroom, ready to announce his inevitable victory, Mia Fey had been very aware of her eyes on him. She hadn't been aware of it before, but she had just been abruptly made aware. She had told herself and continued to tell herself that it was in the spirit of competition, because she could not find another answer.

"I have to keep an eye on him if he's my rival, right?"

* * *

Mia Fey had not planned on accepting the case.

When she had received it, she had tried her very hardest not to turn it away in a heartbeat. Now, Mia Fey was not one to ignore challenges. But the case had appeared rather impossible. The individual pieces could've been a part of any case: an escaped convict, a murder, a death row inmate, a rickety bridge, a rainy day...but all combined into one monstrosity, Mia Fey had been undeniably intimidated. Her stomach had dropped further with each word she'd read. But just as she was about to push the case away, just as she was about to close it off from the part of her brain reserved solely for legal things, she saw a picture of the defendant. He had looked like a child staring up at her from the page. Mia Fey could swear that she'd heard him pleading, and she had suddenly thought about how many attorneys before her had abandoned him. So she had decided to meet the defendant face to face.

Terry Fawles looked very frightened when Mia Fey met him at the detention center. He was fidgety, like an anxious little boy awaiting punishment from his angry mother, and he couldn't seem to keep his eyes on her. Mia Fey felt sorry for Terry Fawles and, at the sight of his pathetic state, listened to his story. He told her with bright and teary eyes, with a voice that shook with an emotion that she couldn't name, that he had not killed her. The earnestness with which he claimed his innocence struck a chord in Mia Fey's heart. But she was afraid of that chord because she had not yet realized just how decisive that chord was, and tried to think rationally.

"Mr. Fawles, I want you to look me in the eyes and answer my question once more."

She leaned forward, as close as she could to the glass wall.

"Did you kill Valerie Hawthorne?"

Terry Fawles stared back at her, and his lips trembled.

"I din't kill her. I swear it! Please...you gotta help me."

When he pleaded with her like that, hands clasped and voice shaking, Mia Fey accepted the case. She thought of how ridiculed she would be back in the office, she thought of how the prosecutor would scorn. But this man's conviction, his absolute image of innocence, overcame those thoughts. She believed wholeheartedly in Terry Fawles's innocence, even though Mia Fey had not planned on accepting the case.

By that time, the people had defined Mia Fey already. She had entered the office with a clear view of how she wanted to be seen: a force to be reckoned with. Throughout her life, she had always been confident in her own abilities as a woman and as a person. Once she decided to become a defense attorney, things had begun falling into place just as she'd wanted them to. Mia Fey followed the path that was laid before her with as much intensity as she could muster, and she'd wanted everybody around her to recognize that intensity. And so, the other attorneys in the office did. From the moment Mia Fey had walked in, she had been the new, ambitious defense attorney—but they hadn't been so clueless as to assume that she would accept this kind of case. The attorneys who worked with Mia Fey described her as passionate, eager, determined...but only after she accepted Terry Fawles's case did they begin to describe her as crazy. Little did they know that the fact Mia Fey had taken his case as her first was an invaluable stepping stone in her life.

Mia Fey didn't mind the rumors. This was the moment during which she was reminded of her true purpose in becoming a defense attorney: not for the recognition of others, and certainly not to surpass Diego Armando. Her purpose was to defend the helpless. But maybe—just maybe—this would be her chance to show that hotshot lawyer, the one who involuntarily and constantly held her gaze upon him, that this kitten was more than a rookie. She was a lioness. She would walk into the court, wow the world, and walk back into the office with a new strength. Perhaps then Diego Armando would finally notice her as the rival she truly believed herself to be. She hadn't had a chance to show him yet, and here it was. Mia Fey's determination shone through at its brightest when she decided to take the case. The stubbornness was what helped her maintain her sanity in the face of the endeavor she was about to undertake.

* * *

Mia Fey was more than a little bit shocked when she heard Diego Armando's voice.

Her ears had been searching for Mr. Grossberg's. But as she stood, speaking with Terry Fawles and trying her very hardest to keep him (and herself) calm, the voice she heard was not Mr. Grossberg's voice. It was the voice of that man, the interesting, smug, sexy one. The man who had unknowingly—or maybe even knowingly—propelled Mia Fey forward in her quest to become the best defense attorney she could be. There he stood, suddenly and almost surreally, in front of her.

"I came to see how our little kitten was doing all alone in the big, scary lion's den."

Diego Armando tilted his chin up, flashed that picture-perfect smile, and made a point of flaunting his coffee cup in her face. Then he took a sip and winked at her, in the same manner in which he'd winked at her during their very first meeting.

"I thought maybe you'd like someone to play with."

"Err, where is Mr. Grossberg?"

Mia Fey was confused by the way that Diego Armando spoke to her. Or to anyone, for that matter. She simply couldn't decide how she felt each time he addressed her. He had a way of making someone feel comfortable and welcomed, but in exact same instant, he had a way of making that someone feel inferior and intimidated in his presence. Mia Fey wasn't sure if she could call his tone patronizing, or even condescending. But she couldn't call it verifiably comforting, either. So she decided to stick to those two words that resounded in her mind at the sight of his face and the sound of his voice: smug and sexy. And then, Diego Armando said something that made Mia Fey unbelievably proud of herself.

"So, Diego Armando, the finest attorney at Grossberg Law Offices, is here for me...?"

"No, no, no..."

He smiled and took another sip of his coffee. Mia Fey found herself thirsty, as well.

"You've got it all wrong. Today, YOU'RE the finest."

Diego Armando winked again. She wondered how often he would wink at her and how often he would take a sip of his coffee and how often he would call her "Kitten" throughout the day. Furthermore, she wondered why he had even decided to accompany her. Nevertheless, his words made Mia Fey feel happy. She looked into his eyes and, whether from his sincerity or his incredible abilities of manipulation, felt confident. She didn't know him well enough yet to decide which one.

"After all, it took an amazing amount of guts to take this case!"

Diego Armando was right. It _had_ taken an amazing amount of guts. But at that point, Mia Fey could not bring herself to think of that or even to smile, because out of the corner of her eye she saw Terry Fawles gnawing on his chains and mumbling to himself. And she was reminded of why Diego Armando had given out his compliment in the first place.

_Determination and stubbornness,_ she repeated in her head. _That's all it takes. You can win this!_

She looked at him, and the expression on his face almost validated her thoughts.

"Well, it's about time to head in, Kitten."

Mia Fey's stomach dropped as Diego Armando took her arm and began leading her into the courtroom, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper.

"Sharpen those claws of yours. It's go time!"


	3. Chapter 3

Diego Armando's Final Answer

Diego Armando had seen kittens with sweet hearts before.

He had seen kittens with an atmosphere of pureness surrounding them. He had seen kittens who fought, kittens who were passionate, kittens who glowed with eagerness and determination. But he had never seen any kitten like Mia Fey. That was an odd concept for him to grasp at first because Diego Armando had assumed that he had seen it all—one kitten can't be too different than the other. That's what he had been telling himself. But suddenly, as if something large and superhuman had picked up his word in its clawed hands and turned it upside down, Diego Armando found himself being proven wrong. Mia Fey fought more ferociously, was more passionate, glowed more than any kitten he had ever seen—or would ever see again. And it all began, he decided, in her heart. A pure, sweet heart; it became the description he had of her for the rest of his life. Mia Fey believed in Terry Fawles. She believed in him with every ounce of her being, and she was going to fight for him. That trust, that loyalty, that mark of a true defense attorney...it moved him. Mia Fey moved Diego Armando.

Diego Armando was not an easily moved person. And even as he stood beside Mia Fey on the defense bench, feeling the lump rise in his throat, he was determined not to let it show.

_Push her,_ he thought. _She needs you to push her if she's gonna win. That heart isn't going to do it all._

As always, Diego Armando distracted himself with his coffee and his smugness while Mia Fey sweated and hyperventilated and shook beside him. It was her first case, after all, and one with which even the most skilled defense attorney (including himself) would have had trouble. Then again, the case was rather clear to Diego Armando. He knew what she should've been doing. He could see right through the witness statements, as if his eyes had been given a strange ability to detect lies as they flowed from people's mouths. With each sip of coffee, he felt his senses heighten and his brain jump back to alertness. Coffee rejuvenated Diego Armando. But when he tried offering it to Mia Fey, wondering if perhaps a sip might do her well in the tight spot she was in, she had trouble gulping it down.

Diego Armando could admit to two things about Mia Fey: she was incomparably determined, and she was talented. But that was it. The pure, sweet heart that continued running through his mind, he agreed with himself, was not enough to dub her a prodigy (not like the boy genius prosecutor). It was not enough to take away from the fact that Mia Fey was a beginner, and though he didn't want to, Diego Armando could still call her nothing but a kitten in the courtroom.

During a particularly difficult section of Melissa Foster's testimony (one that Diego Armando was itching to rip apart piece by piece) Mia Fey stumbled and left the judge questioning her confidence. He watched as she fumbled over her words, stuttered, picked at her nails. Finally, she looked over at him, eyes pleading for guidance.

"Hah...! You're still acting as tame as a kitten...Kitten."

"Mr. Armando—"

Diego Armando decided then and there that he would offer Mia Fey, who had managed to move him in the purest way possible, his most valuable piece of advice.

"Listen...A lawyer is someone who smiles no matter how bad it gets."

He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his coffee. Mia Fey watched him in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

"Smiling on the outside while your guts are twisted in knots is the mark of a pro."

He held out his mug, waiting for her to take it. She did, and their hands brushed for a single moment, and Diego Armando had never felt anything so strange. Then, with a face still contorted in anxiety, Mia Fey drank from his coffee.

"Maybe so, but I wish you would quit grinning at me like that."

Diego Armando did his best to help Mia Fey, for reasons that he couldn't understand. Because of his own reputation? Because he wanted to get the trial over with quickly? Because he truly believed Mr. Crybaby to be innocent? Or was it because he hated to see the kitten, trembling and near tears, putting all of her trust in this hopeless inmate? Diego Armando decided that was a question for later—at that moment, the only things he knew was that he wanted another cup of coffee and he wanted to help Mia Fey. He wanted to see what she was made of, and he wanted to figure her out. Diego Armando was glad that he had made that world-changing decision (though he didn't know that it was world-changing quite yet). He was glad that he had decided to come.

The trial was going better than expected. Mia Fey was doing well, he thought. She was somehow managing to hold her own in the face of such a horrifyingly hopeless situation. Of course, Diego Armando knew that she needed his help if she was going to win this. She wasn't strong enough yet. She was the strongest of kittens, of that he could be very certain. But she wasn't a lion just yet, and Diego Armando was looking forward to the moment at which she bared her teeth and became that fierce lioness.

That moment, the one for which Diego Armando had been so patiently waiting, never came. Mia Fey never had the chance to become that lioness. Terry Fawles killed himself because of Dahlia Hawthorne, and it was the first time (the first of two in his whole life) that Diego Armando ever regretted brewing a cup of coffee.

"Unforgivable...that witch."

"Mr. Armando," Mia Fey said his name. Her voice was very shaky, very weak, very damaged.

"We were so close to the truth. It was right there in front of us."

Diego Armando remembered, at that moment, why he had become a defense attorney: for the truth. He had nearly forgotten that. But now that he could see it, now that he could feel it slipping through his fingers, Diego Armando felt unbelievably angry about the fact that they hadn't uncovered it. That Mia Fey hadn't uncovered it.

"You were just a little too soft, Kitten."

"It's my fault! It's all my fault that Terry Fawles killed himself!"

When Diego Armando saw Mia Fey's tears, something stirred inside of him that made his skin tingle and his hands shake. The coffee he tasted when he licked his lips was suddenly bland, void of the qualities that usually attracted him with such force. This emotion was not one he had experienced before, not one he could drink away with his notorious cups of infinitely bitter coffee—usually bitter enough to put everything else in the shadows. He took another sip, to make sure that his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, but nearly spat it back out. He looked over at Mia Fey, confused about those stirring tears_._

The anger that overcame his mind at that moment was nearly unbearable. He couldn't even say what was making him angry. The fact that his coffee was tasteless, his shaking hands (even though his body had become immune to the effects of endless caffeine), the words her lips continued to say, the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes and crush his whole world beneath them. He was angry about the revelation he was beginning to have at the hands of her hopelessness, angry about this emotion he had never taken seriously.

_Are you, Diego Armando, a loving person?_

"Don't cry, Kitten. You're going to make my coffee all salty," he said.

It was the one thing he figured would be the normal thing that he would say. He didn't want to tell her not to cry because he hated to see her like that, or because her smile was so pretty, or for any other reason that would be incomprehensible given Diego Armando's established character. So he told her not to cry because he didn't want his coffee to be salty.

"I knew it! I knew I wasn't cut out for this."

Diego Armando's anger (and that emotion, the one he couldn't describe) was beginning to get the best of him. He wanted to say something else, maybe something to the kitten about his coffee. Maybe something about Mr. Crybaby. Maybe something about that witch, something about the truth, something that Diego Armando would usually say. But the only thing Diego Armando wanted to say was her name. Diego Armando just wanted to say her name, tell her that she had been so close, that the truth was still right there...

"Mia."

Diego Armando hadn't realized how tense he had become until his mug of coffee, sitting comfortably in his hands, suddenly shattered. The pain was delicious, and he felt shivers on his spine as the blood trickled down his palm. It was warm and sticky, and in it Diego Armando could feel the contents of his heart overflowing and spilling out. And it was all because of that lost truth, all because of those tears, all because of the way she looked at him, searching for some kind of answer to the disheartening questions. It was all because of that sweet, sweet heart.

"Don't you get it? You can't cry yet."

He leaned on his elbow and stared straight into Mia Fey's glistening eyes. She bit her trembling lower lip, taken aback by his words, and he could see her trying hard to stop the tears. But they continued to spill over the verge.

"The only time a lawyer can cry is when it's all over."

"Mr. Armando..."

And then, as if it had been waiting in the shadows for the perfect moment to emerge, the answer came to Diego Armando. He knew the answer to the question that had been blaring in his mind all of this time. And he knew that it was his final answer, one that he would never change after that day, February 16, 2012.

"Are you, Diego Armando, a loving person?"

"Yes," he answered. "Yes, you are. Why? Well, that's a simple one. You love Mia Fey. And that's all there is to it."

And that was, in the end, all there was to it.

* * *

Diego Armando became determined to catch Dahlia Hawthorne.

It was her fault, after all, that Mia Fey's first case had ended the way it did. Diego Armando stopped thinking of her as a woman, and started thinking of her as a witch. She was no longer simply a person who had committed a crime and escaped justice—she was a woman who had committed murder and escaped the truth. Diego Armando had seen Mia Fey's eager fingers reaching for that truth, just grazing its edge, before the witch bared her teeth and ripped it from her grasp. Diego Armando had _seen_ the truth. And he knew that Mia Fey had seen the truth as well, and together, he knew they could find it once for all.

When Diego Armando and Mia Fey left the courtroom, he could sense her absolute hopelessness. He felt her despair seeping into the air and, finally, into his body. She walked with her back, usually straight with the support of confidence, hunched over. Her eyelids, usually so wide with excitement and eagerness, drooped heavily. The sparkle in her eyes, the one that had intrigued him so, was dimming. The only thing that gave Diego Armando hope, the only thing that made him think maybe Mia Fey's heart was still strong, was the fact that she wasn't crying. She had heeded his advice. That was how he knew that _she_ knew that it wasn't over.

He didn't expect her to want to enter a courtroom any time soon. In fact, he was worried that she would never set foot in a courtroom again. But he had figured her out. He had seen her heart. He had practically held it in his hands.

Diego Armando knew how to describe Mia Fey. It began with her pure, sweet heart. It was her faith in her clients, her faith in the ones who were putting their trust in her. It was her determination to trust them and to prove, to herself and to everyone else, that they were worth trusting. Mia Fey was talented—as a lawyer and as a kind, fierce woman. She had all of the ingredients, all of the potential, to be one of the best. Diego Armando had no doubt about that, and he understood why she had accepted the case. It was for the same reason that she had accepted a position as his rival: to show that she was strong enough to do it. But when Terry Fawles had killed himself...that belief in her own strength had gone away. That was what Diego Armando believed.

He was surprised when she didn't immediately accept his offer to help once they had reached the office.

"Hey, Kitten."

"What?"

"Don't look so down. We still have a lot of work to do."

"There's nothing left to do, Mr. Armando. Terry Fawles is dead."

"You're going to let her get away with it?"

"Wha—?"

"You're going to let that witch get away with avoiding the truth?"

"Mr. Armando, you don't get it. I don't have anything left to give. I'm finished."

"Now, now, Kitten, don't be jumping to conclusions like that, all right? It was your first trial. You're still fresh."

He winked at her and began wrapping his bleeding hand in gauze. She had grabbed it for him from a small cabinet.

"There's a lot to uncover," he continued.

"About what, Mr. Armando?"

Mia Fey seemed very exasperated, even more so than she had been during the trial. It almost made Diego Armando want to laugh, mostly because her expression was undeniably cute when she looked exasperated.

"The fake kidnapping, of course!"

"The fake kidnapping? You mean, when Dahlia jumped off the bridge?"

"You got it, Kitten. Without all the facts from the past...we can't uncover the facts in the present, can we?"

"I suppose not..."

"It's decided then! Get ready, Kitten. It only gets harder from here."

"All right, Mr. Armando. Whatever you say."

"Call me Diego. Mr. Armando makes me sound like an old man, yeah?"

He realized that his name sounded very wonderful rolling off Mia Fey's tongue. It sounded natural. It sounded as if she should have been saying it much more often.


	4. Chapter 4

Mia Fey's Very Clear Path

Mia Fey wasn't surprised when Diego Armando asked to help her.

She had seen the expression on his face at the end of the trial. She had seen the hungry, livid glisten in his eyes each time he looked at Dahlia Hawthorne, and she had seen the mug of coffee shatter in his hands. She had seen him come close to erupting with the frustration of lies, the frustration that came with the fact that they hadn't uncovered the truth. She discovered at the trial that Diego Armando was a man who, above all, wanted the truth—just like her. From that trial, Mia Fey realized that they were one in the same. That was why, when he told her that he was going to investigate with her, she was not surprised. She had almost expected it. The only problem was that she hadn't planned on accepting.

Mia Fey felt horribly broken. When she looked inside herself, she saw ruin where the strong, upcoming defense attorney once was. In fact, it was more than that. She could no longer feel any of her strength at all, none of her motivation. She could feel nothing. Mia Fey would raise her hands up to her eyes and examine them, and she would see blood. The blood of Valerie Hawthorne and Terry Fawles. It had been her job to uncover the truth for them, but they had both died in the middle of a storm of lies. It had been her duty to get them out of that storm. But Valerie Hawthorne was murdered, and Terry Fawles committed suicide. He had so little faith in the truth that Mia Fey was to uncover that he had chosen death. And that was why Mia Fey felt broken.

She was empty, and she was very certain that she would never again step into a courtroom. There were too many skeletons for her there, too many memories of her inability to accomplish her dream. Mia Fey cursed herself and asked herself, over and over, why she had decided to become a defense attorney in the first place. What worried her the most was that she didn't have an answer—it had once been so clear to her. The path ahead of her had been glowing and wonderful and exciting, and now she could see nothing ahead. Only sorrow.

That was why Mia Fey had initially rejected Diego Armando's suggestion that they continue the investigation. She tried to make it known that she was broken and empty and sad, and that delving into this would be painful. But he was relentless. His face wasn't smug or condescending when he said it. It was determined, and fierce. And of course, it was still very sexy. There was something alluring about Diego Armando's voice. When he sounded confident, when he felt confident, when he filled the room with his own confidence, she felt it rising in herself as well. It was that strange aspect again, the one where he could make one feel unbelievably happy and unbelievably intimidated at the same time. Happy enough to believe in what he was saying, intimidated enough to feel that he was absolutely right.

"It's decided then! Get ready, Kitten. It only gets harder from here."

"All right, Mr. Armando. Whatever you say."

"Call me Diego. Mr. Armando makes me sound like an old man, yeah?"

After that day, February 16, 2012, Mia Fey began calling Diego Armando by his first name. At first it was an odd feeling, looking up at him and saying his name and watching him smile. All had been very strange for her in the beginning, as they sat at a desk together at the office and began their investigation. Having so many conversations with him, saying his name so often, hearing him call her Kitten, was strange. But it became natural. It became so natural that doing it made Mia Fey feel more comfortable, less tense. She began mumbling his name under her breath at particularly low points just because the sound of it calmed her down.

* * *

Mia Fey and Diego Armando made a better team than anybody had expected.

When they put their heads together, the world stopped turning for a bit and simply marveled at the amazing things they could do. Once they made the decision to undergo this private investigation, there was nothing that could get in their way, and Mia Fey felt that power almost instantly. She gaped in awe at the way she had bounced from her lowest point to the point of extreme determination at which she found herself. One moment, she had been in utter despair wondering what she was going to do with her life and how she was going to get through. The next, determination was once again pulsing through her veins and her lust for the truth began shining through. And together with Diego Armando, that lust was bright enough for anybody to see. They wanted more than anything to grasp that truth by the horns and show it to the world.

"How are we going to go about this?" Mia Fey asked on February 20, 2012.

"What do you mean, Kitten?"

"Well, won't this investigation be a bit...I don't know...suspicious?"

"I'm still not catching your drift."

"Diego, this is dangerous. That's what I'm trying to say."

"Ha...!"

Diego Armando threw his head back and Mia Fey noticed how long and slender his neck was.

"Of course it's dangerous. But that's what makes it fun, isn't it?"

Mia Fey was confused. She thought at first that maybe he was joking. But then she saw the look in his eyes, still the same one he had had on the day of the trial. Very determined and very serious.

"All right."

Diego Armando made Mia Fey feel that they were doing the right thing, and that feeling spread through her like a wildfire and made her very eager to continue the investigation. And together, they did. They worked tirelessly every single day on their investigation, each day wondering what would happen if they truly did step into the danger zone. But Mia Fey became very accustomed to having Diego Armando by her side. She became very accustomed to turning to him for help, very accustomed to giving him help, very accustomed to sitting so close that their shoulders brushed.

Mia Fey's path was finally becoming clear, and her period of worry passed (not meaning that she was willing to step back into a courtroom, of course). She saw it spread out in front of her, wide and shimmering. She saw the truth there on that path, and she knew where she was headed. And for some reason, something else was very clear on that path, and that something else was Diego Armando walking by her side. That was her path.

* * *

On February 27, 2012, at 10:46 P.M, the beautiful six-month relationship of Diego Armando and Mia Fey began.

She didn't feel any different when she woke up that morning. She went through all of the motions as normal: washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed through her long brown tresses, put on her defense attorney suit (not that she was going to be doing any defending). Everything was perfectly normal. Her briefcase was beginning to accumulate documents regarding Dahlia Hawthorne, nothing else. The only calls on her cell phone were from her younger sister and Diego Armando. Her breakfast was toast and eggs. She held back on the coffee, because she knew that there would be a wonderful cup waiting for her at the office. Everything was perfectly, simply normal. Mia Fey didn't realize that that day was going to be anything but normal.

"Hey, Kitten!"

"Good morning, Diego. I hope you slept well."

"Sure did. Here's a cup of coffee, one of my—"

"One of your special blends, I know," Mia Fey laughed and took her cup.

As she grabbed it from him, her fingers just barely grazed his, and a very strange feeling began sinking into her skin. She sat down at her desk and began filing the papers, going over what her plans were for the day, trying to push aside that strange feeling. Diego Armando stood over her, watching, snickering with those smug lips and gripping his cup with those smug fingers. Everything was so very smug, so very sexy, she thought.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Ha!"

Diego Armando finally grabbed a chair and sat down beside her. And he had been sitting like that every day since the day of the trial. But on that specific day, Mia Fey felt sparks around her when he did. There was a completely different expression on his face, not the smug and determined one to which she had grown accustomed. An invisible person was setting a fire around them, making her suddenly extremely hot. She worried that her cheeks were red, and when she lifted her hand, she saw that it was trembling. The normality was slipping away, and Mia Fey didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. She especially didn't like that Diego Armando seemed wonderfully unfazed.

"Things are going pretty well, huh, Kitten?"

"I don't know if I would say that..."

"No?"

"They're going slowly, that's for sure."

"We've got time!" Diego Armando sipped his coffee and began leafing through the papers. Each sound was like an earthquake in Mia Fey's ears. "We've got lots and lots of time."

"Sure, I guess so."

"Hey, Kitten."

"Yes?"

"How old are you?"

"Wh-what? Why do you want to know how old I am?"

"Just curious, I suppose."

He raised his eyebrows at her, leaned back in his chair, and brought the coffee to his lips. A strange sensation, a universal tingling, ran from Mia Fey's toes all the way up to her scalp. She felt that she had no choice but to answer because Diego Armando's voice was begging her to answer, for no real reason.

"Twenty-two."

"You're a tiny kitten, huh?"

Diego Armando chuckled to himself a little bit and then became silent. Mia Fey wasn't sure how to respond, so she didn't. She forced herself to turn away from his burning eyes and look back at the files, but she found herself face to face with Dahlia Hawthorne, which was never a pleasant sight.

_The truth_, she thought. _That's my path. The truth. The truth. The truth._

She almost—almost—forgot about the part of her path that included Diego Armando.

* * *

That day was particularly exhausting for Mia Fey and Diego Armando.

She wasn't sure why, but as she sat at the desk after everyone had already gone, still looking through papers, she was unbelievably tired. And she could see, by the way Diego Armando gripped his cup of coffee just a little bit more tightly, that he was tired as well. It surprised Mia Fey that she was able to notice tiny details like that, but it had become second nature for her to see those details in Diego Armando. Things like the way he held his cup, the way his eyebrows were raised or lowered, the way he glanced at her when he thought she wasn't looking. It all came together to create a beautiful picture of him, smug and sexy and very (Mia Fey realized) desirable.

And above all, she felt indebted to him. He had been there for her fall, and he had helped her stand up. He had reminded her of her goal, helped her clear her path, brought the goal of truth back to the forefront of her thoughts. Mia Fey could never forget that he had done that for her, all in the spirit of being a fellow defense attorney. At least, Mia Fey thought that it was in the spirit of being a fellow defense attorney, because before that night she had no idea that Diego Armando loved her.

But she did discover it that night.

In their mutual exhaustion, they were silent as they sat beside each other at the desk. Once again, they were the last ones in the office.

"Lock the door when you leave," Mr. Grossberg had ordered before dragging himself out the door. They had nodded, relatively oblivious to the fact that the office had become more theirs than his.

Mia Fey could barely see the words on pages in front of her. They were blurry and moved around too much for her to focus. So she pretended to read. She pretended to concentrate on...what was her name? Dahlia Hawthorne. But in reality, she was looking at Diego Armando through the corner of her eyes, admiring the tan complexion of his skin and the shimmering quality of his hair. His face seemed to be the only thing that she could focus on. And so, she did, if only to keep herself from falling asleep. She thought that maybe she should go home. But something kept her from leaving. So she sat.

He leaned forward the tiniest bit and Mia Fey felt him staring at her intently. It was then that Mia Fey recognized the strange tingling sensation in her skin: it was the sensation of desire.

"What?" she turned to him. His smile grew slightly wider.

"You seem very tired, Mia."

"You know I just love to hear that."

Diego Armando kept smiling, and he maintained eye contact so intensely that Mia Fey felt that she had no choice but stare back at him. He didn't usually call her by her first name. Then she noticed that he was, ever so slowly, bringing his face closer to hers. Then there were a few moments of wonderful silence. It was the kind of silence that had so much intimacy. The two of them had an entire conversation, knew what the other was thinking, all in those few moments of silence.

She opened her mouth to speak. She tried to say something about the case, something about Dahlia Hawthorne, something about Terry Fawles. Something about anything. But she was too late. As the first syllable of a word she wasn't aware of saying escaped her lips, Diego Armando interrupted her—rather rudely.

He put a hand on her neck and kissed her. He kissed her hard, smothered whatever she was going to say.

The first thing Mia Fey noticed was how well his lips fit into hers. The next thing she noticed was that his hands were incredibly warm, no doubt from the cups of coffee he constantly held. And finally, she noticed how happy she was feeling with his lips against hers. How happy she was to sense his fingers against her neck, how happy she was to let him close out the space in between them. She kissed him back fiercely, hungrily, passionately, finally realizing that she had wanted to kiss him ever since she had laid eyes on him.

And that was how the beautiful six-month relationship of Diego Armando and Mia Fey began.


	5. Chapter 5

Diego Armando's Tense Shoulders

Everyone could feel the love between Diego Armando and Mia Fey.

Even from the first day, it was a fierce love, one that made itself obvious to observers more so than it made itself obvious to the actual lovers. They felt the heat when Diego Armando and Mia Fey looked at each other. They sensed the passion when Diego Armando and Mia Fey spoke to each other. And they could hardly imagine the intensity of such a love when the two of them were alone—it was an idea that could hardly be fathomed. The love was just so evident and heavy and ferocious that the thought of it became too much. Sometimes, other people felt that they themselves were invested in this love, this wondrous gift that Diego Armando and Mia Fey were giving to the world. Their love made others feel loved. It was just that kind of love.

"Good morning, Kitten."

"Hi, Diego."

Then he would lean down and he would kiss her more gently than anybody ever thought he could.

"Did you sleep well?" she would ask, and she would straighten his tie with movements so soft and delicate that the love was even apparent there.

"Very well. You?"

"I slept fine."

He would put his hand on her shoulder and kiss her forehead, and then for a few moments he would just stare at her as if she were the only thing in the world that could make him smile. And they would sit down and began their work, and everybody would become red with jealousy.

But, again, it was a fierce love. And fierce love meant fierce hatred, as well. Not hatred in the traditional sense of wanting nothing to do with one another, because Mia Fey always wanted something to do with Diego Armando and Diego Armando always wanted something to do with Mia Fey. But when they disagreed, when they argued, when they found themselves on opposite sides of the fence, the fires were passionate. Both of them were steadfast and defiant, so when they challenged each other, everybody else in the office began to sweat.

"Can't you pay attention for _one second?_"

"Can't you get off my back for one second?"

"You know, you'd think with all of that damn coffee you'd be more alert."

Then she would slam her papers on the desk and stand up, and her face would be bright red.

"Why are you always so _irritable_?"

He would stand up, coffee mug in hand, and follow her. He would be running his hand nervously through his hair.

"Oh, _I'm_ irritable."

Then Diego Armando would try to grab her hand, but she would pull away, and they would begin screaming at each other again. For those few minutes every day (and they did occur every day without fail) everybody else in the office would cower and watch their wrath unfurl in red ribbons. But within the hour, as was always predicted, Mia Fey and Diego Armando would go back to their love. Their arguments never created obstacles, never made the two of them wonder if their love was the right thing—on the contrary, their lingering hatred for each other made it clear that they were on the right track. This was surely meant to be.

For Mia Fey and Diego Armando, loving each other became a part of life. It was a new adventure everyday, something to look forward to when they opened their eyes in the morning, but it became something they needed. Mia Fey enjoyed telling herself on days when she was angrier with him than she thought was possible that she should leave him.

"I don't need him," she would fume to herself.

And Diego Armando would say the same things to himself when she would turn her head and refuse to speak with him for reasons he wished so badly to understand.

"I don't need her," he would grumble and sip his coffee.

But the moment they looked into each other's eyes again, the moment they touched, they fell in love all over again. They never apologized. They just kissed and held each other and loved, as a way of reassuring each other (and of course, themselves) that there was mutual need. Mia Fey needed Diego Armando, and Diego Armando needed Mia Fey. They knew it, they accepted it, and everyone else did, too. So they were never afraid of what was to come in the relationship. No matter what happened, they were extremely certain that their relationship would be the same. Always the same, no matter what.

* * *

After two months, Diego Armando began spending his nights in Mia Fey's house.

It happened on a Friday night after dinner at a fancy, romantic restaurant; she invited him over for coffee. And of course, Diego Armando never refused coffee (or the company of Mia Fey). So together, they walked back to her house. It was raining, so he pulled out his umbrella and held it over his head.

"I can hold the umbrella if you want, Diego."

"No, you're not tall enough. If I hold it, we'll both stay dry."

"Oh, you're right."

They walked side by side silently, but Diego Armando felt that it was extremely intimate. They had a talent of making conversation without truly saying anything. There was a never a lull when they were with one another; it was always so beautifully intimate. Mia Fey was holding her briefcase—since they had come to dinner straight from the office—and because he couldn't hold her hand, he put his hand in his pocket. When they walked side by side like that, they were dynamic. He could feel it in his bones.

"I don't think I've ever told you, but red is a dashing color on you," she said.

"Well thanks, Kitten."

"Sure."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Diego Armando saw something very strange. He turned his head to the other side of the street, where he could see the reflection of himself walking in the shop windows. In the same window, he saw a face that he knew all too well. There was a witch's face, with piercing demon eyes and hair as red as the shirt he was wearing; bright, like blood. The face was staring at him and smiling, and its teeth were sharp. And for a moment, he almost thought he saw her holding a cup of coffee.

"Diego, what are you staring at?"

Diego Armando didn't answer. He stood and continued glaring at the reflection, furrowing his brow and tightening his grip on the umbrella. Dahlia Hawthorne _was_ holding a cup of coffee. And then she drank it, and then she disappeared.

"Diego?"

He felt that touch on his arm, the one that calmed him even more than coffee, and he looked down at Mia Fey.

"It was nothing, Kitten," he smiled. "Let's go."

But it wasn't nothing. He knew deep in his heart that it wasn't.

Mia fey was rubbing Diego Armando's shoulders that night after coffee because he seemed very tense. She hated seeing him tense because it made her feel tense, so she forced him to sit down on the sofa and she began massaging his shoulders. She dug her fingers into the muscles of his back and could feel the knots. Each time she pressed, he let out a deep exhale. He leaned his head back with closed eyes and open mouth, and she could see him basking in the relief of her massage. She herself didn't know how she was so good, but she was.

"You're even more tense than usual, babe," she whispered in his ear.

"...Am I?"

"Yes."

"Then keep going, Kitten. Keep going."

"Sure thing."

Mia Fey continued massaging Diego Armando's shoulders, but watching him stretched out like that, beautiful and passionate and sacrificial, made her impatient. Her grip on his shoulders began to loosen. Her hands moved, gently, to his neck. As her fingertips lingered there, he took in a deep breath, as if he were inhaling happiness itself. Then, because Mia Fey simply couldn't stand not doing so, she bent down over his head and kissed him. Diego Armando kissed her back, and in the midst of their caresses, there was a heavy passion waiting to explode. Mia Fey felt that passion, hot and steamy, simmering inside of her stomach.

She walked around the sofa and sat down beside him, never moving her hands from his skin for a single second. He kept his eyes closed and continued breathing deeply, releasing the tension from his body, as she loosened his tie. She watched his lips curve into a delicate, sexy smile. After throwing his tie onto the ground, Mia Fey climbed onto his lap and began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Still without opening his eyes or even lowering his head, Diego Armando put his smooth hands on her legs.

"You need to relax a little bit," she murmured. Then she kissed his lips again. "The coffee is making you go crazy."

"I think something else is making me go crazy, Kitten."

Mia Fey laughed, and then Diego Armando opened his eyes and pushed her down against the sofa. That night was the first night he spent at her house.

* * *

Diego Armando and Mia Fey's investigation started making progress.

They had been steadily making progress before, but once their energy was enhanced by the fierce love they shared, they made even more progress. Their passion for each other and their passion for the case fed into each other, became interconnected. The only thing they both wanted almost as much as they wanted each other was the truth. Mia Fey wanted to avenge Terry Fawles's death, and she wanted to avenge her own downfall. It had been Dahlia Hawthorne's fault, and she wanted to bring her to justice. She wanted to world to know the truth. Diego Armando wanted for the witch to pay for what she had done—evaded justice and nearly torn out Mia Fey's heart. And so with their combined ferocity, there was nothing to stop them. Every day, they grew closer and closer to the truth.

But some days were better than others.

"Diego, what do you think of this?"

"I think that's not important."

"But...why not? It's extremely important."

"No, Kitten, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

Sometimes, they lost sight of what exactly they were looking for in the midst of the Dahlia Hawthorne's terrifying past. They felt themselves plummeting deeper and deeper, and Mia Fey kept thinking back to her initial apprehensions about taking on the investigation. She had told Diego Armando that it was dangerous, and he hadn't contested that claim. But now she was feeling it beneath the surface of everything, and he was feeling it, too—something that could burst and rip them apart. That was the kind of investigation it was.

They stopped telling people what they were doing because they decided it was best to keep their investigation as much of a secret as possible. Diego Armando was spending more and more time at the courthouse, sifting through documents and asking people subtle questions. Mia Fey was spending more and more time on the computer, at her desk, struggling to piece things together with the information she was fed. They made progress, yes, but things grew more and more difficult.

By the sixth month, though, they were almost there. The truth was in the palm of their hands.

And then, as the world laughed, it was ripped away from them in the cruelest way possible.


	6. Chapter 6

Mia Fey's 4:30 PM Call

On the morning of August 26th, 2012, Diego Armando woke up shivering in Mia Fey's arms.

He had had the strange dream again, the one about him drinking the cold coffee. The fear of such a dream coursed through his bones, and he could barely stand to open his eyes. Mia Fey wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair, whispered calming words in his ear, kissed his forehead over and over. He simply lay there shivering and let her comfort him. Diego Armando was not one to get scared—least of all from nightmares. Everybody knew that. But this was different. He felt something ominous on the horizon, coming toward him, and he felt it coming quickly. He didn't know what it was and he didn't know what he would do when it got to him, but he kept telling himself the same thing:

"Just make sure that your coffee is _always_ dark and _always_ hot. Then you'll be fine."

That was the solution to everything, he felt. And when he said that to Mia Fey, she smiled at him and nodded her head.

"Yes, that's just what you need to do. Everything will be fine."

Then she kissed his forehead again and held him tighter, because she hated to see him in that kind of state. It made it difficult for her to hide her anguish. But for his sake, she did, and he was comforted by it. No matter what happens, he thought, I'll always have my dark coffee and my kitten. My sweet, pure, beautiful little kitten.

* * *

"I'm going to the courthouse again today, Kitten. I have a special meeting"

"All right..."

Diego Armando was up early the next day, August 27th, 2012. Mia Fey was still in bed, half-asleep, as he tied his tie and brewed his special brew.

"You'll never believe who wants to meet me today."

"Hmm...Who?"

"Dahlia Hawthorne. She contacted me last night asking to meet."

At that name, the gears in Mia Fey's head jumped to life. She sat up in bed and stared at him, the color draining from her face.

"And you _agreed_?"

Diego Armando smiled that crooked smile and ran a hand through his hair.

"Of course I did. This is what we want, isn't it?"

"I don't know," she sighed. She lay back in bed and clasped her hands behind her head. She was staring at the ceiling in the most worried way. "I don't like the sound of it all."

"Come on, Kitten, what's there not to like?"

"I think it's dangerous."

"Like I always say," he laughed, "that's what makes it exciting."

"Right, but Diego, this isn't just a game."

"Stop worrying so much. I'll be fine! I am Diego Armando, after all. Finest attorney at Grossberg Law Offices."

"Well I can't argue with that, now can I?"

"Of course you can't."

"Maybe it could be really good to actually talk to her..."

"Maybe she's finally going to tell the truth," he hissed. "That witch."

"Just make sure you stay on your guard, okay? She's dangerous."

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay..."

"Stop looking so worried, Kitten!"

Diego Armando crawled onto the bed and kissed her lips, his tie still loose and his hair still disheveled.

"All right, all right! Now go shave!" she laughed.

He kissed her one more time and then he tugged on her ear before getting up. Mia Fey watched him, eyes swimming with passion and worry. She didn't want to make him worried too, and she didn't want to overreact, but the idea of him meeting with Dahlia Hawthorne put a pit in her stomach. She hated the idea of it. It made her scared. But she dropped the subject and made herself content with the idea, because she knew that Diego Armando was strong. He was intelligent and confident and witty, and not even Dahlia Hawthorne would get the best of him.

Mia Fey had a surprising amount of trouble convincing herself of that.

"Well, I'm off, Kitten."

"Wait, Diego!"

"Yeah?"

"I...I love you."

Diego Armando smiled at her and put on his jacket.

"I love you too, Mia. More than you'll ever know."

And that was the last time that Diego Armando ever saw Mia Fey, and the last time they were able to say, "I love you" to each other.

* * *

Mia Fey had decided to work from home that day.

She sat on her bed with her laptop, papers scattered all over the sheets, going through the motions. She hadn't been able to find the energy to get out of bed even once that day. It was already three thirty in the afternoon, and she had been in the exact same position. She had gotten a text from Diego Armando at three, telling her that things were going well. He was about to go into his meeting with Dahlia Hawthorne. Everything was perfect. Mia Fey hadn't had enough strength to text him back. She told herself that she would wait until he came home, and then she would break down and tell him just how worried she had been.

And he would come home, she reminded herself. He would.

A single hour passed. At four thirty PM, Mia Fey received a phone call. It was from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mia Fey?"

"Yes."

"You're friends with Diego Armando, aren't you?"

Mia Fey stood up from the bed and stared out of the window.

"...Yes."

And then, Mia Fey's entire world fell apart. Everything crumbled. And it all crumbled on top of her, leaving her bloody and gasping for air beneath the rubble. As soon as they mentioned his name, she knew. Her worries, her fears, the absolute worst scenario that could have happened...happened. All of the darkness that had been stirring in her heart when he told her he was going to meet Dahlia Hawthorne rose up to the surface of her being. She held the phone against her ear as the woman on the other line explained, and her hand trembled more than it had ever trembled before. She could hardly keep her grasp on it. Her entire body was frozen in fear and agony.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Diego..."

"I'm so sorry. Maybe you should come down to the courthouse—"

Before the woman on the other line could finish, Mia Fey threw her phone against the wall and began pulling at her hair. She fell to her knees, hyperventilating as her vision became blurry and her mind caved in on itself. His face swam in the tears on her eyelids. Then, blinking away the stinging tears, Mia Fey began to scream.

"_Diego!" _

And that was how the beautiful six-month relationship of Diego Armando and Mia Fey ended: a single drop of poison in a cup of coffee that was too cold.

* * *

For months, Mia Fey screamed and had nightmares and mourned.

But she refused to cry. She wouldn't let herself. Not then, at least.

"The only time a lawyer can cry is when it's all over."

His words never stopped echoing in her head, even as he lay comatose in a hospital bed. Even as the world began to forget the fierce love that used to define it, Mia Fey never forgot those words. She never forgot his voice. And she never forgot about the one who ruined her life.

* * *

Epilogue: When It's All Over

It was April 10, 2013, when Mia Fey decided to go back to the courtroom.

"Mr. Grossberg, can I come in?"

"Of course, Mia darling, have a seat."

"Thank you."

"What can I do for you?"

She sat in a small, uncomfortable chair behind the large desk. Marvin Grossberg sat on the other side, breathing in and out heavily, watching her with beady eyes sparkling behind tiny spectacles. Her face was more determined than he had ever seen it in the past eight months.

"You're going into trial tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I am," he nodded.

"The case against Phoenix Wright?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Mr. Grossberg, if you don't mind, I'd like to take that case."

"You'd like to _what?_"

"I want to defend Mr. Wright."

Mia Fey's voice never faltered, not even for a single moment.

The large man put his hands on his stomach and leaned back in his chair. The buttons were nearly coming off of his jacket. He played with his mustache for a few moments, watching her face and squinting his eyes.

"Mia, I'm not sure about this..."

"Let me handle the case," she urged. This was the moment she had been waiting for. For eight months, she had been praying for an opportunity like this. "Please, Mr. Grossberg. I need to do this."

He sighed, stared at her for a couple moments longer, and then he pushed a pile of papers across the desk toward her.

"There's all of the case information. Trial starts at ten tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Mr. Grossberg," Mia Fey sighed. "Thank you."

She took the papers back to her desk and she hastily flipped through them. Finally, her eyes fell upon the witness profile. The one that made her heart boil.

"Dahlia Hawthorne," she murmured under her breath. "The defendant's girlfriend and the victim's ex-girlfriend."

_You're not going to escape this time. I _will_ win. For Diego._

* * *

"Not guilty."

Mia Fey watched Dahlia Hawthorne being led away with handcuffs on her wrists and felt the only surge of happiness she had felt in eight months. It filled her from her toes up to her mouth, which curved into a genuine smile of relief. She had done it—she had put Dahlia Hawthorne where she belonged and had revealed the truth (at least, she had revealed enough of the truth). Mia Fey knew, even though Dahlia Hawthorne's trial wasn't for a while, that she would be found guilty. Dahlia Hawthorne would be sentenced to death. She knew from the tingling in her spine that it would happen, and that would mean that everything was over. She had taken her revenge for Diego Armando.

* * *

That evening, as Mia Fey curled up in bed, she sobbed.

It was the first time she had cried since Diego Armando's collapse. But she let herself do it, because it was all over. Dahlia Hawthorne was gone. A lawyer can only cry when it's all over. So Mia Fey buried her face in her pillow and struggled to breathe and choked on her own tears. She didn't get a single moment of sleep. The tears kept flowing, tears that had been building for eight months, and they stained her cheeks. She felt Diego Armando's fingers brushing them away and then she felt his lips on hers, could smell the scent of coffee in his breath. But she knew that he wasn't truly there.

"It's all over, Diego."

_Is it?_

"Yes."

_Then cry, Kitten. Cry._

So she cried. But the next day she was smiling.

Because a lawyer is someone who smiles no matter how bad it gets.


End file.
